


In Which There is a Perfect Christmas

by MissjuliaMiriam



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Gen, Public Relations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 11:46:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissjuliaMiriam/pseuds/MissjuliaMiriam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's easy to assume that Tony doesn't care about these things. Unfortunately, he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which There is a Perfect Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This is brainless angst. I made myself cry when writing it, even though some of it is a little OOC. Woops, I don't care. Sorry. AT LEAST IT HAS A HOPEFUL ENDING.

 

The Avengers gather in the kitchen on the morning of Christmas Eve and sit around and drink coffee, and eat muffins that someone had bought yesterday, and mumble greetings to each other for close to twenty minutes before anyone realizes what's wrong.

“Where's Tony?” Bruce asks, glancing around the kitchen. And sure enough, Tony is absent, his usual spot at the island empty, and his travel mug gone from the shelf.

“Master Stark left a voice message, if you would like to hear it,” says JARVIS, and Natasha jumps a little in her seat. No one laughs, because they all jumped a bit when they were first getting used to JARVIS, and Natasha is the most tightly wound of all of them. Especially first thing in the morning, before anyone is finished their second cup of coffee.

“Uh,” says Bruce. “Sure.”

Tony's voice comes over the speakers in the kitchen. “Hey, guys, uh, got some PR shit to deal with today, I'll be back for dinner? I hope, fuck, I don't know. Look, I'm so sorry. Fury probably has stuff for you all to do today as well, I guess? Or tomorrow. Or both. Again, I don't even fucking know. I'm sure he'll call you. I'll see you later, bye.”

He sounds harried, rushed, and he has a strange note in his voice. Everyone puzzles over it for a moment, then they dismiss it as Tony being Tony.

“Thanks, JARVIS,” Steve says. “We'll see him tonight, I suppose. Let us know if his plans change, alright?”

JARVIS takes a pause that would be a sigh if he were human, and then says, “Of course, Captain. Director Fury has in fact left a schedule for today and tomorrow with me; there are several events that the Avengers should appear at. There are a number of items to choose from; I would suggest that you split yourselves into pairs, or threes, so that you may maximize your time.”

This sounds like the opposite idea of fun to everyone but Thor, who loves PR work. But Steve tell JARVIS to put the schedule on the glass that makes up the counter of the island, and they set to work dividing up destinations for the day.

The list is extensive, with two morning events, and four evening ones, just for Christmas Eve. Thor, being Thor, volunteers to make an appearance at the fundraising event for the city's orphanages, which usually just involves a lot of hugging small children, smiling, and laughing. He makes children happy, and happy children encourage donations. Bruce is assigned to go with him, because he gets along well with the older children who are still trapped in the system. He has been there, in a way that Thor never has, and he is a good calming influence.

There is a brunch happening for war veterans, which Steve immediately agrees to go to. He knows how to shake hands with old men and women, and he knows them. He knows what they've been through. Plus, he enjoys it.

Clint and Natasha get the morning off, but are each sent off alone in the evening. There is a homeless shelter hosting a dinner, and Clint is going to volunteer to serve food to the needy. He is a friendly face, and familiar with the streets. Unlike Steve, or Thor, he does not particularly enjoy his task, but he understands its necessity. Natasha goes to a feminist gala, which is throwing some support behind women's reproductive rights, as well as raising money for a rape-relief foundation. Natasha is invited to give a speech is she wishes, and she plans to. These are issues she knows her mind on, and she is glad for the chance to speak it.

When they get home, Bruce and Steve have made dinner, a homey, Christmas-y thing that smells like oregano and chicken, and mostly tastes like home. They eat and make merry, as you should on Christmas. And they had hoped, it being a later dinner, that Tony would appear in his suit, as tired as he always looked after a day with his public face on.

But Tony never shows up, and by the time midnight rolls around, the Avengers are beginning to retire to bed. Thor goes first, though he needs the least sleep out of all of them. However, he feels no need to wait for Tony, and he enjoy sleep. Then it is Clint and Natasha, and then Steve, and then only Bruce is left. Bruce waits up on the couch until close to 2 AM, and dozes off. He is woken from a half-waking dream by the sound of a soft curse.

He opens his eyes to find Tony there, staring at him.

“Why didn't you go to bed?” Tony asks, sounding befuddled.

Bruce shrugs sleepily and drags himself off of the couch. “No one should come home to be alone on Christmas.”

Bruce leaves the room, then, well aware that Tony's gaze is on his back. “There're left overs in the fridge,” he calls over his shoulder, and then yawns. “Merry Christmas, Tony.”

 

Christmas Day dawns bright and cold and clear, and this time when the Avengers rise Tony is waiting for them in the kitchen, hunched miserably over a cup of coffee. They all mumble greetings to them, and he acknowledges them and then goes back to his slow sips.

“Are you okay?” Bruce asks him quietly, and Tony tries on a smile for him.

“I'm fine.” It sounds like _save me_ , but Bruce knows that unless Tony tells him something, and offer of help will be soundly rejected.

He finishes his coffee and speaks up. “So, uh, I talked to Fury and you guys are off for the day. I've got shit to do for SI, still, but you can do whatever you want, I guess.”

“You sure?” Clint asks, half a muffin stuffed in his mouth. “'Cause you look tired as fuck.” His words are a bit muffled, but he gets his point across.

Tony nods, and smiles again. “Christmas sucks,” Tony says. “All work and no play.” He shrugs. “No rest for the wicked, I guess.”

Clint hums through the rest of his muffin, and slowly conversation drifts away from Tony. He stays for a little while, and then slips away without a word. He's still pale and tired looking when he goes, and Bruce watches after him.

“So,” Clint is saying, when Bruce turns his attention back to the conversation. “What do you guys want to do today? We've got the whole day, after all.”

The group starts to discuss plans, and Tony vanishes from their minds, just like he vanished from the room.

 

They settle on having a nice afternoon in, but by the time four o'clock rolls around, Natasha wants to go out for dinner, and Clint is suggesting drinks afterwards. Thor is booming with enthusiasm, and Steve and Bruce are wearing quiet, content smiles. It's a nice Christmas, if not an orthodox one, and the dinner is good. They go out for Mediterranean food and then they hit a bar afterwards. They sit around, making merry and signing autographs for anyone who recognizes them. It's cheerful, and Clint tries to force terrifying eggnog concoctions of them (Bruce refuses, and though Steve drinks, they have no effect on him, as usual).

Somewhere around eleven o'clock, Bruce's phone rings. It's the shrill sound of an emergency ring, cutting through the noise of the bar, and all of the Avengers look up. Bruce yanks his phone out of his pocket and checks the caller ID, and then answers the call and puts it on speakerphone.

“You're on speaker, JARVIS,” he says, setting the phone down in the middle of the round table the Avengers are sharing. They all lean in so that they can hear.

JARVIS sounds more disapproving than any of them have ever heard him sound, when he speaks. “When I was learning human customs and mannerisms during my first year 'alive', I was taught that Christmas is a time to spend with one's family. One's whole family, regardless of any level of affection. For someone like Master Stark, who has built his family from the scraps of others, times like this are all the more important. I would have liked to think that such an esteemed group as the Avengers would think of that before entirely forgetting about their _other_ teammate.”

Then JARVIS hangs up on them, and the Avengers are left staring at each other across the round table, a sick feeling growing within all of them. Because JARVIS was right. They'd forgotten about Tony.

 

It was quiet in the Tower when the team arrived back. There was the quiet sound of a crackling fire coming from the direction of the den they use the most, even though they don't have a fireplace, and they head that way. When they get there, they all stop and simply look.

Tony is asleep on the couch, curled into himself like a child. He's wearing his slacks from the day and a Christmas sweater that is too big for him; clearly stolen from someone else's closet. The TV is showing the loop of a fireplace, the logs burning down. One candle is lit in the middle of the table, a scented one that is filling the air with the scent of cedar, and that mixes with the smell of fresh pine from a small, undecorated tree that has been set up in one corner of the room. There are a few neatly wrapped gifts under the tree.

“Jesus,” mutters Clint. “I didn't think-”

“None of us did,” Natasha says. “We all assumed that he didn't care, because he was busy. We should have thought about it, but we didn't.”

“Often I find that we think the worst of Tony,” Thor continues, his voice as hushed as they have ever heard it. He sounds mournful, too, and it carries all of this thousands of years into his voice. “We consider him careless, and insensitive, and self-absorbed. We forget that he has emotions as well, that his heart can be broken.”

Bruce just shakes his head and walks over the the couch. Steve is saying something about how Tony doesn't always think the same as them, but that he's still human. Bruce doesn't really care. Right now he wants to make sure that Tony is alright, and that means not letting him wake up alone.

“Tony?” he says, softly, coming to kneel next to the couch. He rests a hand on Tony's hunched shoulder, noting how tense his friend's frame is, even in sleep.

Tony comes awake all at once, a flash of panic in his eyes, and then he relaxes. “Bruce?” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep. “Wha' time's it?”

“Late,” Bruce says. “I'm sorry. We made you come home alone, even after what I said.”

Tony shuffles around in a motion that might be a shrug. “S'okay. You were out having fun, I get it.”

“No, it's not okay,” Bruce says, and shoots a warning glance at where Steve is approaching the back of the couch. Tony doesn't need anything Steve has to offer right now. “We're your family, and we should be with you on Christmas. It was unfair of us to leave you behind.”

“I laid down on the wire,” Tony mumbles, and Bruce thinks that maybe he's not awake yet. He's rarely this honest when he's paying attention. Behind the couch, Steve flinches. “I did the dirty work, you got to have some freedom. Someone had to, s'okay. Really.”

“Tony,” Bruce sighs, but Tony waves a lazy hand.

“There're gifts. Under the tree.” He looks over at it and smiles. “It's kind of perfect.”

“You made a perfect Christmas, just for us,” Bruce says, and tries to smile. He thinks that it doesn't work, though, because Tony just looks worried.

“Yeah.” Tony frowns a little. “I wanted to do somethin' nice. For us all. But you weren't here, and now you're not happy.” He's still half-asleep, and that is most certainly a measure of how tired he is.

“I'm very happy,” Bruce says. “I'm just sorry that I missed it. That we all missed it. You made it perfect, and we messed it up.”

Tony shakes his head, and wakes himself up a little. He blinks at Bruce, and then smiles. It's a Tony Stark smile, all easy assurance and charm. It looks fake in the candle light, with sleep still brushed along the lines of Tony's face. “Doesn't matter now,” he says. “I'm going to go to bed. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Tony,” Bruce says, and does that thing where he watches Tony walk away, and no one stops him. No one stops him to tell him that he's allowed to be here, with them. That he's allowed to sleep on his own couch if he wants to, and that he doesn't have to lie and say that he's going to bed even when Bruce can already see the workshop in the set of his shoulders. It makes Bruce sick to see the way Tony does a half-disguised double take when he sees the rest of the team in the door way, watching him with grief painted across their features. And he suddenly cannot abide it any longer.

“Tony, wait,” he says. “Please? Stay and open presents.”

“I doubt anyone bought me anything,” Tony says, a wry smile on his face. “I have pretty much everything.”

“Christmas isn't about _things_ , Tony,” Steve says. “Will you accept it if I say that our gift to you is time where you don't have to make yourself into something you're not? Or, just time with us, to be happy?”

“I-” says Tony, and then he shuts his mouth and stares at them. They all stare back; Bruce still kneeling on the floor, and Steve behind the couch, and Natasha and Clint and Thor still in the doorway.

“Please,” says Bruce, again, and Tony nods jerkily.

“Okay.”


End file.
